


End Over End

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: The Older Brother Verse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Comfort/Angst, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, POV Dean Winchester, Pre-Series, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Punishment, Spanking, Teen Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 01:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: "Pants down, Dean.""But, Connor-""Enough already. I said pantsdown."Dean hates this, he does. When Connor uses that voice, Dad's voice, Dean's hands move on their own. So down go the jeans, then the boxers, and then goes Dean himself over Connor's lap.





	End Over End

**Author's Note:**

> The story contains disciplinary spanking of a minor - don't like, don't read.
> 
> I strongly recommend you read [Beneath Your Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178313) before reading this story, as it will introduce you to this AU.
> 
> Beta and encouragement provided by [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti), [alexofthegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexofthegarden/pseuds/alexofthegarden) and [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda).

"Pants down, Dean."

"But, Connor-"

"Enough already. I said pants _down_."

Dean hates this, he does. When Connor uses that voice, Dad's voice, Dean's hands move on their own. So down go the jeans, then the boxers, and then goes Dean himself over Connor's lap.

Connor could have done him the honor of staying on his feet and bending over a chair, but no, Connor just _has_ to have Dean draped over his knees like a little kid, with his feet off the floor and his head hanging down above the tile floor of the kitchenette and his bare ass up in the air.

He's _not_ a little kid, he's almost fourteen; and okay, he accepts that Dad and Connor are going to continue kicking his ass whenever he screws up, but is it too much to ask for it not to be done in this position? Dad understands. He doesn't turn Dean over his knee anymore, but Connor does. And Dean hates it.

He does appreciate that Connor's preference results in a less painful whipping, because even using the strap, Connor can't achieve as much swing as he would with Dean off his lap. It still hurts – _a lot_ – but it would've hurt twice as bad if Dad was doling out the licks. So Dean just holds on to the leg of the chair Connor is seated on and keeps his lips tightly sealed as the lashes start raining down on his ass.

It's not like he _really_ deserves a whipping. What had he done? Tried to get a candy bar out of the vending machine? That machine stole two quarters from him last week, so it was only fair it would give Dean one candy bar for free. And it wasn't even for _him_ , it was for Sammy – Sammy and his puppy-dog eyes, all big and wet with tears because Dad hadn't let him write real details in the paper about their family so it wouldn't alarm the teacher, and he had to make something up and only got a B-plus.

Fine, Dean shouldn't have mouthed off to the motel manager when she caught him with his hand inside the vending machine, he can admit that; he knows you shouldn't provoke the people you might need to suck up to when the rent is due. But she was raising holy hell over a freaking candy bar, and there were people there watching the scene, looking at him like he had just robbed Fort Knox and not a rusty candy machine in a dingy motel.

He almost cries out when the strap lands on previously-spanked skin, and clutches the chair leg harder. He can take this, no problem, he even prefers it that way; seeing the disappointment in Connor's face stings his heart far worse than the strap does his ass.

Although it's a serious runner-up. The leather is biting into that spot where his thighs meets his butt, and Dean's legs are jerking sharply. The strap halts for a moment.

"Stop kicking," Connor says.

"Stop beating my ass," Dean snaps back and immediately yelps as Connor applies a hard swat low on the backs of his thighs.

"I'd keep that mouth in check with your ass in my reach."

"My ass is always in your reach," Dean grumbles, albeit not too loud, and Connor resumes working the strap.

Dean can't talk back now even if he wanted too; the lashes are searing his flesh as if the damned piece of leather is covered in acid, and Dean lets go of the chair leg with one hand and crams his wrist into his mouth.

It hushes his cries some, but not entirely. Dean can hear himself perfectly well, and he knows Connor can, too. Not that it makes his brother lay off, oh no – it seems as if Connor is putting even more vigor into the licks.

Dean feels his tears run down the length of his nose and drip off the tip. If he opens his eyes, he would probably see a little puddle on the floor beneath his face. But his eyes are shut tight, he doesn't even know how the tears manage to keep flowing.

It makes him mad. He's almost fourteen, he shouldn't be crying like a baby because of a _spanking_ , as painful as it is. But it's not just the spanking. It's that lousy candy bar; he just _had_ to have it, didn't he? He _had_ to break into the damned machine, and get in trouble with the manager, and maybe even get them thrown out into the street if Connor isn't able to pay next week's rent with what he has left of their money after compensating the motel for the damage.

And it was so unfair, because all Dean wanted was to cheer Sammy up, just a little, and he ended up making things a hell of a lot worse. That's what he always does, isn't it? He screws everything up.

Suddenly he wishes it wasn't Connor holding the strap, he wishes it was Dad; because Dad would've made him _pay_ for that screw-up, would've made him _feel_ like he's paying for the screw-up. Connor's trying, he is, Dean's burning behind can attest to that, but it's not even close to what Dean deserves.

His tears are running like a stream now and his legs kick harder and his breaths come out in wails he can barely stifle, but still the strap whips down again and again and again and it feels like it's never going to stop.

And then it does.

Dean lies there, sniffling, his chest heaving, one hand still grabbing the chair leg. Connor's hand rubs his back, and if there's one good thing about Dean being over his brother's knee, it's that he's pressed against Connor's body. It grounds Dean some to feel Connor, strong and warm, helps him settle enough to wriggle a little and let Connor know he wants to get up.

He lets Connor set him on his feet, and when his brother stands up, Dean doesn't hesitate to grab his shirt with both hands and bury his face into Connor's chest. He knows Connor won't mind, and, indeed, his big brother's arms wrap around him, holding him even closer, if that's even possible.

"I'm sorry," Dean tries to say, but it comes out choked and muffled.

Connor strokes his head. "Shhh, it's okay, buddy, you're okay. You're forgiven."

Dean sinks deeper into him, wetting Connor's shirt with fresh tears. He's probably getting it all slimy with snot, too, and Connor will have to wash it in the sink because he can't do extra loads of laundry now with how they need to save every cent. It makes Dean feel miserable all over again, but Connor's fingers slowly and firmly dispel that feeling as they comb through Dean's hair.

Dean turns his head so he can lean his cheek against Connor's chest and hear his heart beating. "I'll wash it for you," he mumbles.

"What?"

"Your shirt. I'll wash it."

"Yeah, okay," Connor doesn't sound like he's entirely certain what Dean means, but it's clear from his voice that he's smiling, and Dean lets the corner of his mouth curl a little.

He makes a silent, solemn promise to be good, to do the right thing. He can do it, Connor believes he can. Dean doesn't need for him to say it; he hears it in Connor's steady, familiar heartbeat.

He hears it very well.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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